


The You I Never Had

by MsJackson53



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Anxiety, Child Abuse, F/M, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Murder, Murder Mystery, Not for the faint of heart, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slight mystery, Toxic Relationships, Trauma, partially disabled character, very dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23874547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJackson53/pseuds/MsJackson53
Summary: Jamie spent eight years of his life since the day he was born imprisoned from the rest of the world, having no purpose but to be used. Once free, the outside world is far from inviting. At least until he meets someone just like him. Tragedy brought them together and tragedy is what tears them apart.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	The You I Never Had

**Prologue**

I never had parents. They found me in a basement. I had been locked in a broken freezer with a padlock secured on the outside of it. The inside walls of the freezer were covered in scratches and indents, blood smeared from one corner to another, much of it smeared on my dress as well. My legs would cramp, my arms stiff and aching from the insistent scratching, my throat sore and raw from the screaming, my eyes puffy and irritated from crying. Some days I would feel every emotion, every scrap of anger boiling in my chest, the sobs creating a lump in my throat. Other days I felt only the thread, weak and ready to snap at any time, sometimes it  _ would _ snap and I would feel nothing at all, I would feel like nobody at all.

And then they found me.

The first face I had seen other than  _ his _ in eight years. He had bright eyes and an even brighter smile. He wore a shiny badge and a name tag with letters I couldn’t place. He pulled me out of the box, his arms were lithe and warm. He didn’t let go of my hand in the car, or at the police station, or as I slept in the hospital. 

When I had arrived the first thing they did was give me some privacy so I could take the dress off. It was a faded baby pink, there were frills along the bottom and sleeves, the light fabric was stained with blood that had turned black with age and dirty smudges from when he would do it on the floor. I took a shower, all on my own, no one to watch me, no one to touch me. They gave me clothes that hung from my thin form, they said it was the smallest size they had. I was given food. Rather than pieces of bread or expired cans of beans or soup it was a sandwich, something I remember eating only once or twice whenever he said I was being a good boy. 

They told me that I was going somewhere with other children, children just like me, with nowhere else to go, with no one to love them. Those weren’t their exact words but I understood nonetheless.

As I laid on the thin hospital mattress that night, the first bed I had laid in since I was two years old, I realized something. I thought about all he had done to me, all he had taken from me. I had no family, I had no semblance of the world outside that bloodied freezer and that dark basement. For eight long years, I knew no one but pain, my only companion, and sometimes my only solace. But despite all of it, what I felt now was not pain. It was a new emotion, one I had no word for at the time. But there was one thing I knew. Not only had the thread rearranged, but it had come together as something messy and fragile and yet, stronger than ever. 


End file.
